Painful
by marvel-maiden852
Summary: Arthur Kirkland's take on unrequited love.


**A.N : So yeah...this is just a spur of the moment kind of thing? I had some inspiration lately while roleplaying and..yep! Just to be clear, it is from Arthur's perspective. Enjoy! **

You never think it will be you, do you?

"I've been straight, all my life." I'd think to myself. What an ignorant fool I was.

The acceptance is difficult. _Painful_.

It's not as if you wake up one day with a newfound attitude towards your struggle with your sexuality. Not for me, anyway.

It's a process. Like a leaking pipe. The drip begins slow. Quick glances. Noticing new things that had never caught your eye before.

Then as it erodes it becomes more difficult to hold the flow back. You start to slip. Experiment with everything at your disposal. You test yourself.

Finally the floor beneath you is rotten with all that dampness. All those lies. And it begins to crumble beneath you. You, like the idiot you are, try to patch it up. You run strips of duct tape along. Covering up cracks. You can see them though. Know they're there. But nobody must know that they exist. Nobody can know the pipe was leaking in the first place. You should have fixed it. You should have fixed yourself.

Some people might be happy that the floor would finally collapse. It was holding you back anyway. But others, they will be angry. Blaming you on the leak. They will enjoy making jokes, shoving you further into a depression that really isn't that long from pushing you over the edge anyway.  
It's worth it though, keeping it to yourself. That way nobody will treat you differently.

And if nobody knows then _they_ don't know either. You're scared it will upset them. Or perhaps you're afraid that you have no idea how they will react.

_But_ _God_... They're so beautiful. So kind, the one that sent a deadly crack through that floor. The one you think for sure will be the last before you lose the ground beneath you. But they love you. You know that. Just not in the way you need. When they're around, when they lie beside you in bed. It's perfect. An unexplainable kind of perfect. Bliss.

And maybe you can't picture a wedding, or even children. Perhaps that's not the road you were both meant to travel. But you know, you soul screams it every time you feel the gentle pressure of their fingers against your back, you need them.

It's an ugly need too. You're ashamed. Wanting them all to yourself like a child just after being handed a Birthday cake. You know that cake was meant for more. Meant to please more people. Yet you could still eat the whole thing and have your satisfaction largely outweigh your guilt.

Then the reality of it all sets in. It's like a slap to the face only you've just received third degree burns to that cheek. They will never love you. Not the same way. Hell, even if they were gay, would they even take a second glance at you? What's the point in dreaming and hoping that one day you'll wake up on a lazy Sunday morning and they will be beside you, kissing your lips softly and breathlessly whispering 'I love yous' against the soft skin of your neck.

You wonder what they taste like, how their lips would fit against yours. How nice it would be to bring them so much pleasure. God knows they deserve it. You wonder, when they lean in close and make that eye contact, what would happen if you held their cheeks like the world depended on it and kissed them like you were trying to erase every wrong that had been done to them.

Then as you fall deeper, like an animal caught in a trap, you notice smaller things. The best things, in my opinion. You notice the way their eyes move as they smile. You notice the detail in their eyes, the shape of their body. The expressions they use or don't use. Just their pure sent could be enough to send you off into cloud nine.

Caught. That's all you are now. Pinned to the ground. Perhaps that's where the term 'crush' came from. But you know it's more than that. You've whispered it to yourself enough to know. You crave for anything. Like a scavenger. Looking for a smile or a glance or something! Anything...

How cruel life is, you think to yourself. Dangling exactly what you need right above you like tempting a dog with a steak.

It's _painful_..

And you wonder to yourself, what would life be like if my pipe were not broken? If I had managed to fix the leak?

_What would life be like, if I didn't love you, Alfred F Jones?_

What would life be like..._if you loved me back?_


End file.
